


The Missing Man

by Nocturnal_Daydreams



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Always use the person you love most as a you go vibe, But your perception really, F/M, Gen, Joan x Sherlock, Joanlock - Freeform, More like more, Placed immediately after season 5 finale, Sherlock x Joan - Freeform, anyway, ask to tag, maybe friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 04:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12975669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nocturnal_Daydreams/pseuds/Nocturnal_Daydreams
Summary: Joan's still mad when Sherlock has been so absent, what is her reaction when she finds he has broken down?





	The Missing Man

Joan felt victory for putting away the man that put the order for Shinwell’s murder. But the victory and her emotions overall felt bittersweet. She was still so mad with Sherlock. Angry he wasn’t at the funeral, angry that he dipped in and out the case like it didn’t involve him as much as her. Angry that they argued and angry that he wasn’t around for her physically or emotionally. Angry he had been so distant and cold recently. Angry and concerned. 

She walked through the door and inside. There was no sign of Sherlock. No noise of him. She decided to check the house before she definitely concluded he was out the house. She hoped not. She wanted to talk. Something was wrong and maybe he needed help but they were in everything together. She would almost prefer it if he was just being rude and thoughtless as she had been inclined to think when they argued and she was at the end of her tether. 

The walk however had cleared her head and she knew now it was likely to be something else. 

That’s when she saw what she saw. The broken doors. The remenants of the chair. Everything thrown all over. The shattered glass on the floor and the specks of blood that meant not only had Sherlock been in here he had caused it. And she couldn’t see why. He was alone in this room, she could tell. 

She ran back up and out of the house immediately haling a cab. She didn’t know where to go but whereever it was, it was the opposite of the Brownstone right now.

“11th Presinct.” She said before she registered it. It seemed like the right place to go. 

How could she not have seen. Sherlock needed help. She didn’t know what was wrong but the room looked like Sherlock had had a meltdown of some type. It was like the emotions lingered to the walls, she was surprised he hadn’t lit the house up to burn them off.

She watched the streets pass, almost passing the facade as calm, besides the shaking hand by her knee. 

She got lucky as as she arrived Marcus Bell was leaving.

“Marcus, have you seen Sherlock?” Marcus looked ready to make a remark as it was only 20 minutes between her leaving and her re-arrival. But taking half a moment to detect what she said and her tone he stopped.

“No. Why? What’s wrong?”

“He’s disappeared and he looks to have had a meltdown. I don’t think he’s even aware he has glass-shard splinters.” Joan explained, saying all the things in a same tone of voice but the edginess hidden under it all showed she was ready to explode with anger and upset and concern.

“Right.. Shit. Okay, we will find him. I think you need a moment so you sit and I will send the message round for all eyes and ears out for Sherlock.”

Anything was going to be the catalyst and Joan found one in what Marcus said, “Sit down and wait it out are you joking? Why would I need a moment? I’m not to be put to the side.”

“Of course you need a moment, the person you love most in the world has disappeared with signs that they’re not in a good state. I’d lose my shit and we need rationale because time is of the essence.” Marcus replies and reluctantly Joan sits and takes in deep breaths. Taking in what has been said. She nearly responds with some back up or resistance to the phrase but there’s no point. There’s no hiding her reaction.

Marcus begins to call Captain Gregson to get the lookout and arrange a look at of The Brownstone when Joan gets a call.

She doesn’t recognise the number and worry is replaced by fear. Maybe someone was going to hurt Sherlock. She shut down her fear to answer the phone.

She was surprised to her a soft, professional woman’s voice ask, “Hello, is this Dr Wa.. My apologies, is this Miss Watson?”

Her mind fogs from any deducing while she just answers, “Yes, I am Miss Joan Watson. Why?”

“Mr Sherlock Holmes told us to contact you. He is currently in the Neurology department of St Angus Hospital. He’s currently sedated and stable. When he was lucid he wanted you notified. If you’d like to notify whomever else may need to know feel free. You’re okay to see him at any time as notified to come see him just notify reception of your name, his and the codeword is Angus.“

“Codeword?”

“Yes. I’m afraid Mr Holmes has an agreement with Mr Holmes Senior regarding only very limited people to know if he is detained or in hospital.”

“Right. That makes sense, thank you.” She tried her best to sound calm as she hung up. A tear dropped and she wiped it away.

“What is it? Watson, is he okay?” Marcus asked after a pause.

“I don’t know. He’s in a neurology department of a hospital. As a patient. But he’s stable.”

“How did he get an appointment?”

“It seems serious enough that Sherlock would ask his father a favour.” Joan answered, knowing the weight that held.

“He never does that.”

“I know… I’m gonna go. I need to check on him.”

“Okay. I’ll let the others know and they’ll come in a couple of hours. I know you need some time alone with him.” Marcus replied after some hesitation. Joan looked at him as if to say it was fine and then realised she did. She did need time with him alone for a bit. So instead she nodded and gave him a hug.

She hailed another taxi and headed off to the hospital.

By the time she arrived her nerves were raw and she nearly ran out of the cab, forgetting to pay. Remembering herself she then took her time, she wondered if people could see how ready to run she was. Sherlock would have noticed and gave her his look equivalent of a smirk.

‘Where are you going to run?’ the niggling voice that sounded like Sherlock in her mind laughed, ‘you don’t even know where I am until they say.’

She brushed the thought to the side and kept her patience.

After a short wait which felt entirely too long and a codename she found Sherlock’s room and quietly let herself in.

He was calm and quiet, it was a difference. Part of it felt like a weight off of her chest, part of her felt unnerved. He wasn’t like this even in usual sleep. 

She reminded herself he was stable and tried to feel okay. She sat by him and watched a little.

After the longest half an hour of her life, Sherlock awoke.

"You’re not mum.” He mumbled.

“No, I’m not. Do you know me?” She was scared to ask that question but she knew it needed asking. 

“Of course I know you, Watson. I could tell you that without seeing or hearing you.”

“I know. I just. I didn’t know how much you knew. The room. It looks like you went ballistic.” She answered still attempting to give her nerve.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. Something’s not right. My mind is going wrong. I need to know why.” He paused momentarily then even quieter said, “Joan? I’ve been seeing my mum. And seeing stuff. Leaving boxes for my memory. They don’t work. I hallucinated a catastrophe last night. The brownstone was on fire. I went down to save her. I woke up and mum was gone and the room wasn’t on fire. I .. Knew I had to come here.”

Joan was shocked and tried to find the words to soothe him. But she couldn’t. With all the worry in her she couldn’t calm him.

“…Joan I’m scared.” He finally met her eyes.

“It will be fine. I’m right here, not going anywhere. We’re gonna find out what’s up and you will be okay. I promise. You and me, we’ll beat this.” The words spilled out of her. She wanted to hug him and touch him, just to be sure he’s there. But hospitals make him uncomfortable already and she won’t do that to him. Instead she only meets his eyes back to let him know it’s the truth, she’ll be there.

Both nod and they put on the TV.

A silence falls over them and she can feel the fact Sherlock wants to say something choking up the room with tension. 

“Will you just spit it out, Holmes?” She laughs. Her laughter unwinds him slightly and she sees a ghost of a smile.

Slowly and almost deliberately he asks, “I refused to hold my mum’s hand earlier. I shouldn’t. It’s like refusing help.”

She wanted to ask what he meant but she knew he’d retreat. So she decided to go with her gut.

Her hand reached out onto the bed, not looking at him but still smiling. She softly asks, “Would you like to hold my hand Sherlock?”

She didn’t hear an answer but she feels his hand softly fall into hers and intertwines his fingers with hers. Her worries melt as she really feels his presence. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” She reassures.

It’s a statement not a question but he answered anyway, “Yes, I know it will. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t help.”

She wants to go on but he stops her, “Words later, Watson. They’ll be plenty, I’m sure. I just want to watch the bees for now.”

She nods, silently and meets his eye for a moment. She knew that too, there were many words and many worries to come. But just not quite yet. Now there was only the calm, the bees and them - that was more than enough.


End file.
